Battlefield
by Jaxrond
Summary: Names were interesting things, and she had carried many through the years: mongrel, warrior, ally, friend, beloved, wife, mourner, wanderer, and more, gained over time. Who could have known what would pass? Her friends cursed to be together and yet apart, her husband sealed into oblivion, and she herself left to wander from battlefield to battlefield like a shade, lost in time.
1. Don't Try to Explain Your Mind

It would have been all too easy to dodge the stone. Weariness kept her in place, uncaring of the sting on her arm as the stone bounced off the flesh there. Her feet kept up their slow, plodding pace, her eyes staring emptily ahead. The boy shouted something that went unheard. It didn't matter what he'd said, she could feel the hatred in his words. Hatred was a familiar thing, in those days. It was a common emotion in war. Hatred of the other side fueled some of the most despicable acts of conflict Britannia had ever seen. Hatred allowed one to see the enemy as little more than beasts. Hatred made their treatment of her just fine, even though she wasn't an enemy.

She didn't mind, not really. The inhuman blood pumping through her veins protected her from more than just stones thrown by hateful children. The sword on her back was proof enough of her status as a warrior. The black blood on her armor was a testament to her success in battle. None of that mattered to the humans, though. At least, not those who knew who, and what, she was. The daughter of a kingdom torn down long ago, by their standards. For her, it was only a brief memory away. The death of her home, and the beginning of life as it was. Wandering endlessly from battle to battle. Fighting without purpose. Swinging a sword, club, mace, axe, whatever found its way into her hands. Magic flowing from her palms. That was just the way things were, and how they would be for a long time to come. There was no end in sight for this Holy War, and certainly no end in sight for her status as a pariah and omen of ill tidings.

She heard, more than felt, another stone ping off her shoulder. She did not glance back. There was no need. Even if the stones bruised her in a particularly lucky shot, she would heal all too quickly. Besides, she was just passing through. Soon, she'd be away from the humans here. At least they were just humans. Some of the other, more powerful races found her disgusting enough to attempt to smite. Then again, the demon clan wanted to kill everyone who wasn't a demon and the goddess clan had always been 'holier than thou'. Giants tended to ignore her, thankfully. It was the fey she had to be watchful of. They tended to be the most disgusted with her…abnormalities.

She continued out of the village, deaf to the shouts of the boys who pursued her to the edge, blind to the looks of contempt from the adults, unfeeling to the last of the projectiles. She let her slow steps carry her up the road, Northward, toward the heaviest of the fighting.

How long she walked, she did not know. Long enough for the sun to pass overhead and begin its descent. Her throat was dry, but it went unheeded. Her stomach rumbled, but it was ignored. She did not stop, trudging on in a sort of sleep-walking state.

Camilla's first hint that she was no longer alone came in the form of a dark shiver down her spine. She slowed her trudging steps, coming to a stop. Her body hung loosely over her feet, betraying her exhaustion. After a long pause, she slowly turned to look at the source of the presence. Unnaturally silver eyes, resignation shining in them, fell on an individual who had not been there a moment before. He stared back at her for a moment, expression innocent. Then, he smiled.

He was standing on a rock beside the road, a short little man who looked more a boy than anything else. Blonde hair stuck out from his head and green eyes glimmered with a sort of contentment. He wore a sword on his back, over clothes unstained by road or battle.

The warrior regarded him for a moment. Judging by his energy, he was a demon. However...she sensed no malignance from him. He raised a hand in greeting and she followed the motion with her eyes. She was so tired. How long had it been since she slept? She wasn't sure. Dark demon blood still streaked her hair, staining the white strands. It stuck to her leather armor and the ragged clothes beneath. Her pale skin was colored by mud created by the dirt of the road and her own red blood. She looked a terror, covered in filth, hair messy, freshly scabbed cuts splitting her flesh. Yet here this demon stood, smiling at her in that surprisingly friendly way. She distantly wondered if she should draw her sword and prepare to meet him. His human appearance meant that he was high-ranking, which meant that victory was unlikely. She was still exhausted from her last battle with a handful of grey demons who had sacked a village some distance back. Not that she could take someone like this at full strength.

She was so tired. Maybe, if he killed her, she could finally rest. She had little to live for, no one to miss her. It might be for the best...

"Hi, there!" he chirped, "You're a hard woman to find."

She didn't move, aside from a long, slow blink. Her sword was still sheathed at her side, a nice thing taken off a dead knight. She didn't like stealing when the land was in the state it was, but, he hadn't been using it and she had needed it. He seemed to take her silence as a cue to continue.

"Are you the one who's been cleaning up the villages around here? The half-blood fighter?"

It took her a moment to process his questions. Then, she gave a slow nod. He seemed to brighten.

"Great! Then you're definitely the one I'm looking for! I have a proposition for you."

Her brows drew together. A proposition? He didn't mean to kill her? What did he want? He looked back at her, still smiling. The silence between them grew and she realized that he was waiting for some sort of acknowledgment.

"...what is it you want from me?" she asked, her voice a rasp from disuse.

His smile widened. An odd one this was. Overly happy for a demon. In her experience, they tended to be more interested in destruction and devouring the innocent than making propositions.

"I've got a little group called Stigma. Our job is to act as a taskforce that works against the Ten Commandments and their troops. From what I've seen, you'd be a great addition."

Camilla stared at him unblinkingly in confusion. Had she heard him right? He fought the demons? Was this short man with messy blonde hair a...traitor to the demons? And he wanted her to join him? Did he not know what she was?

With the same painstaking slowness she'd demonstrated previously, she looked away.

"You don't want me. Whatever you're doing, it wouldn't be wise to have me with you."

The demon cocked his head slightly, smile shifting to an expression of confusion mixed with interest.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Those silver eyes took on an incredulous glint. Did he really not comprehend what he was asking? She turned slightly, muscles straining in protest, to better look at him.

"You've already mentioned that I'm a half-blood, which means you are aware of what I am. Do you really want a half-breed muddying the name of your group?" her voice carried a scathing bite.

The demon blinked at her, not replying for a moment. Then, he shrugged.

"We don't really have much of a name," he said mildly. When her eyes hardened, his easygoing expression slipped into something more serious, "Listen, I understand why you might be hesitant to join us. I'm guessing people have treated you pretty badly, right? But you won't have to worry about that from us. You're good in a fight, and that's what we really care about. If the Holy War is gonna end, we've got to join forces and do our best to defeat the Demons."

There was a moment of silence between them. Then, she turned to face him fully.

"Who are you?"

That wide-eyed, innocent expression came back, settling over his features like a well-worn article of clothing.

"Who, me? I'm Meliodas, the current leader of Stigma," he smiled in an equally innocent way, "What's your name?"

She considered him for another long moment. There was no guile in his bearing. If he was deceiving her, he was doing a very good job. Though...did it really matter. Ever since Greyda had passed, she hadn't had much to live for. Just aimless fighting, scrabbling for another day of existence. If this was some elaborate scheme to end her life...did she really care?

"Camilla."

The demon- Meliodas- grinned again, giving an odd little laugh. Something so unassuming from such a dark being seemed out of place to her, but, again, she couldn't bring herself to care more than a little. She was so tired.

"Cute name! Now then," he folded his arms over his chest, the muscles of his arms bulging in a way that didn't fit his otherwise childish appearance, "You're half-fairy, right?"

Camilla's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had ascertained it so quickly…Again, he gave that odd little giggle.

"Your coloring gave you away, plus, you're a bit shorter than a regular human. Both are fey traits. You're obviously not a goddess, no demon would settle down with a human, and giants...you get the picture."

She nodded once, slowly.

"I see….and you're a demon."

"Yup!"

An odd thing to be cheery about, but, he'd proven to be an odd man. Another moment of silence passed between them. It stretched on beyond that. Camilla observed the odd demon unblinkingly, strangely avian in her posture and body language. He stared back, waiting for her to say something. When nothing was forthcoming, he rocked back on his heels.

"So…?" he dragged out the vowel questioningly.

Camilla looked away from him, turning her eyes down the road. It stretched off into the distance, dirt rutted with tracks from cart wheels passing over it, packed from the feet of travelers. Eventually, it would run through the next town before continuing. It was fortunate, really, that the road was there. All too often, that was a luxury that couldn't be had, and travelers were left to struggle over open plains and hills. She'd had her fair share of walking both.

For a moment, she considered her options. She could keep wandering, see where this road took her, continue begging for food and doing hard labor for small change and a roof over her head at night, spending most nights on the road. Or she could accept his offer, join his team, fight the demons as a group. After a long pause, she looked back to him, finding him waiting patiently.

"Is there food and shelter?"

Meliodas didn't seem surprised by the question. He merely smiled and shrugged.

"Most times. I mean, we're on the road sometimes, but we usually bring something in to eat. And, well...Drole eats a lot," he looked up thoughtfully, "It might not be a lot by giant standards, but it's still a pain to keep up with."

Camilla cocked her head. A giant? This really was an odd group.

"A demon, a giant, and a half-fairy," she rasped, considering him, "Who else is a part of this team?"

Meliodas looked at her again, his expression one of something like surprise. It was as though he hadn't expected her curiosity.

"Hm, well, we've got a goddess. She's the one who patches us up after fights. And a fairy."

Camilla recoiled. It wasn't much, just a twitch and a flash of displeasure across her expression. The fey were the worst when it came to demeaning her. Their disgusted looks were often much worse than the humans' projectiles and insults. Humans were fleeting creatures, she'd already lived a number of their lifetimes. She had already experienced walking through the same town twice and finding different people there each time, a generation having passed. Fey were long-lived. Their disgust grew over time and their disgust remained over centuries.

Meliodas read her reaction and smiled.

"Don't worry. No one there will treat you poorly. Gloxinia's strange sometimes, but he's okay."

There was another tense moment of silence. She still had no reason, aside from her own tired state of existence, to believe this demon about any of this. Though...considering what could happen, a bit of prejudice was nothing. She frowned, her pale brows drawing together in a deep furrow. It was the most expressive she'd been since the conversation started.

"...when do we leave?"

As soon as she said those words, Meliodas brightened. He gave his odd laugh and nodded once, looking almost gladdened by her decision. He hopped forward, off his rock. Camilla was struck by just how small he was, barely reaching her chin. He looked up at her, green eyes shining.

"Right now," he leaned closer, looking mischievous, "You ready?"

* * *

 **This is what happens when Jax binges season three of Seven Deadly Sins and then picks up the manga.**

 **This series is a set of chronological one-shots chronicling Camilla's life and relationships with various canon characters. Major spoilers for season three and beyond. Rated for canon violence, innuendos and humor, angst, dark themes, and later mentions of physical intimacy. Feel free to leave comments and constructive criticism.**


	2. I See What's Happening Here

Camilla pressed her back to the rock formation, closing her eyes briefly. Beside her, she could hear Meliodas shifting, readying himself for the arrival of their target. Above her, Gloxinia hovered, the tell-tale whoosh of his wings occasionally falling on her ears. Drole was a bit further away, careful not to stand too near his comrades when even a simple shifting of weight could prove dangerous for them. Elizabeth had opted not to join them on this particular mission. Camilla was glad. The goddess was a creature with a gentle heart, she didn't need to be on these sorts of engagements, when their aim was to slaughter, not deter.

Normally, this sort of bloodshed wasn't their team's prerogative, but, this particular group of demons had been slaughtering their way across the countryside with an unrivaled ferocity. The humans were suffering the brunt of it, as usual. It was up to Meliodas and his team to stop it. Though, Camilla thought with a sigh, Ludociel would be more than happy to claim any success they achieved. Over time, she'd learned that Stigma wasn't just the name of their taskforce, but of the entire alliance as well, of which the strongest of the Archangels was the leader. She much preferred staying with Meliodas and the others.

More than twenty years had passed since she'd met Meliodas on the roadside. A blink in the eye of the long-lived entities of the taskforce. The only mark Camilla had of the passage of time was the aging of the humans of the alliance. Those who had been young upon her joining of the alliance were older now, with offspring of their own. Strange creatures, the humans. Her birth mother had been human, but, Camilla had very little memory of her beyond an impression of soft hands and a gentle voice. Greyda, the woman who raised her, hadn't been human in the least. Her only interactions with them had been fleeting, negative things as she wandered. Though, those who worked with Stigma seemed more welcoming, there was still a wariness present. On the whole, Camilla did not care for them.

Nor did she really care for the fey. Gloxinia was different. As their king, she would have expected him to be the worst, and, indeed, she'd had a visceral reaction when she discovered his true title. This amused him to no end. He was a rather laid back, mischievous character, more interested in putting her in awkward situations or teasing her than looking down on her. He regarded her half-blood status as a curiosity, and sometimes asked questions about just how much fey power she possessed. He'd recently drawn a conclusion that, as she matured, she would eventually gain her wings.

"They won't be as impressive as mine, obviously," he'd said, lazily drifting above her, "But, they won't be terribly small either. Based on what I've guessed, I'd say that your father was one of my knights. They have a decent amount of power to pass down, so don't worry about being a weakling."

She had supposed it was his own odd manner of encouragement and accepted it as a compliment of sorts. The fey king had further made his acceptance known through his tendency to use Camilla as a pillow whenever he felt drowsy. It wasn't uncommon for him to suddenly flutter down to sit next to her and let his head flop onto her shoulder, back, lap, or, sometimes, even her own, with the sleepy request that she watch over him while he slept. At first, Drole had quietly chastised him for this, but, Camilla had assured them both that she didn't mind. She was actually quietly pleased. The physical contact was something she had lacked during her wanderings.

Drole had been more intimidating than Gloxinia, at first. It had been a long time since she'd seen a giant, and, even for a giant, he was truly huge; a veritable mountain of hard muscle and powerful limbs. In battle, he was ferocious, and watching him tear through demons with the Earth as his weapon had been an awe inspiring, and frightening, sight to behold. Off the field of battle, though, he was surprisingly gentle-mannered. Stoic and to the point. His smiles were quiet and few and he did not seem to like to waste time on idle conversation. He had also been very kind to Camilla. On more than one occasion in the past decades, she had been saved from particularly dangerous situations by a large blue hand swooping in to literally pluck her out of the fray. At first, it had been unnerving, leading to a few quiet apologies from the giant when his magical eye picked up on her disquieted thoughts. After the first few times, however, she'd become used to it, and, on occasion, had even asked that he watch her back in such a manner.

When Drole or Gloxinia were not watching out for her, though, she could be sure that Meliodas was. The Demon was a terror on the battlefield, rending the enemy with a horrible speed and efficiency. Even while he was fighting, though, he kept an eye on his comrades. More than once, he had suddenly appeared behind her to block a sneak attack, or descended from the sky in a mighty 'boom' to blast away a knot of enemies who had surrounded her, before bounding away with a reminder to be careful. She knew he did this for the others as well, though they oftentimes needed it less than she. Off the field of battle, he had assumed the role of caretaker. As far as he was concerned, he'd said, he'd brought Camilla into this, and he would keep her safe during it.

The final member of the team, the goddess, Elizabeth, was one who tended to stay away from the frontlines. Camilla enjoyed her company between battles and Elizabeth's political engagements. It had been she who had been the most openly welcoming to Camilla. Elizabeth had showed Camilla what it was like to receive a hug, to be permitted to simply speak one's mind, and to have a true friend. Elizabeth had begun to confide in her shortly after their meeting, which, at first, had confused Camilla to no end. Why would this woman share her personal feelings with her? Over time, she'd realized that it was an attempt to build a friendship between them, going far beyond simple acceptance. So, she'd begun to confide in Elizabeth, too. At first, it had been small things, simply sharing bits and pieces of her day, thoughts about her teammates, and so on. Then, it had been bigger things shared between them. Elizabeth's feelings for Meliodas, which Camilla had already guessed, entered their conversations. Camilla's loneliness and apprehension around the other races. Their pasts and hopes for the future had also been discussed. Only one other person had treated Camilla with such familiarity, and that individual had died long ago.

Camilla's attention was drawn when Meliodas went still. She glanced over at him to find him watching through a crack between two of the rocks in the formation, eyes narrowed slightly. Gloxinia drifted closer, also alerted by their captain's behavior.

"What is it?" the fey king asked, eyes sharper than usual.

"...there's fewer than we thought," Meliodas replied after a pause, "This isn't right. There should be half again that number…" he trailed off, frowning. Then, his eyes widened, displaying the ominously black iris and pupil, "There's a village a few miles East. I thought it would be far enough off their course, but, maybe…"

Drole had bent down slightly to better hear the conversation. A rumbling hum filled the ears of those below him as he followed Meliodas' thoughts.

"Go. You're the fastest of us. We can handle those coming here."

Gloxinia agreed carelessly, still looking out toward the oncoming attackers. Camila looked up at Drole, needing to crane her head to see him. Then, she looked at Meliodas, offering a small smile.

"Give them hell."

The demon gave a wide smile at that, this one tinted with more darkness than his usual cheerful grin.

"You too."

Then, he was gone, as if he'd just disappeared into the wind. There was silence between the remaining members for a few brief moments. Then, Gloxinia drifted up to perch on Drole's shoulder.

"So, what's our plan?"

Drole tilted his head, considering. Then, he glanced down and found Camilla standing alone, looking out toward what would soon become their battlefield. His lips pressed into a thin line, dislike for such loneliness filling him, and he bent to offer her a hand. She looked up, briefly surprised, before stepping into his hand without hesitation, trusting him completely as he lifted her up to the same shoulder Gloxinia occupied.

"They'll see me coming no matter what we do," the giant replied as Camilla quickly clambered up, seating herself beside Gloxinia and finding herself with a better view of the field, "If we wish to use the element of surprise, we must do so from a distance."

Gloxinia smiled, humming in amusement.

"While I agree with you, I don't know that any sort of surprise attack would work. They'll likely be expecting something of that sort."

Camilla listened to the two men discuss strategy, thinking quietly to herself. The goal was, as always, to crush the enemy swiftly, allowing for no escapees who may later wreck havoc. She half listened as they made a few suggestions, then, she looked over at them both.

"I could go in first. Act as a distraction long enough for the two of you to make a decisive attack."

They paused long enough to look at her, Gloxinia looking mildly surprised, Drole's single eye more searching than anything else. Camilla was not reckless, but, she did possess a certain disregard for her own safety, a trait both monarchs suspected came from her long years of segregation and discrimination. They then exchanged a glance. To Camilla, their silence spoke louder than anything they might have said.

"Do you worry about me?" she asked, still looking out over the battlefield.

They did not doubt her, that much she knew. They had both praised her capabilities. But, they did worry. She was a valued team member, and they were her only family at the time. In the past decades a bond had formed that none of them wished to see broken.

"I will leave the decision to you. You are my seniors, but, choose quickly. They come."

She extended one pale finger toward a black mass moving on the horizon. If they were in view, they would be upon them soon.

"She'll be fine," Gloxinia said decisively to Drole before turning his attention back to Camilla, "We'll back you up. Try not to get in the way," his tone was cheeky and his smirk even more so.

Camilla gave a small smile in return.

"I'll do my best."

Drole glanced at her again.

"How do you plan to approach them without being overrun?"

Camilla paused for a moment. Then, she smiled, wider than her previous smiles. A grin that bespoke confidence and carefreeness. It was the smile Meliodas had taught her to wear when she was about to do something that others might think was reckless. Gloxinia sighed softly, knowing what that smile meant. It rarely came to her face, as she was still much reserved at that time, but, he'd seen it on Meliodas enough to know exactly what it was.

"How good is your aim?"

Drole paused, cocking his head. Then, he, too, sighed, a short huff through his nose.

"Good enough."

* * *

When Meliodas returned to the site of the battle, there were carcasses dripping ichor strewn about everywhere. Toxic demonic blood oozed into the ground. Some had been smashed, others pierced, and still others simply cut down. What told him the most, however, were those who had been nearly burned to a black, flaking husk. A little away from the carnage, he would see where Gloxinia had summoned his Moonrose. Drole seemed fine, aside from a few scratches, and Gloxinia was quick enough to evade most attacks. That meant…

The demon prince jogged to the small huddle, peeking around his friend's massive leg to find Camilla in the final stages of healing under the Basquias's power. Her shirt had been burned by a potent blast from a red demon, it seemed, the skin underneath had been blackened. Her left side trembled and her expression was one of someone who was struggling to contain their instinct to react to pain. Gloxinia patted her silver hair soothingly, smoothing back strands that had fallen from the intricate bun on her head. The battle must have been intense, for him to openly show such friendly affection. Meliodas didn't miss the way the Fairy King relaxed as soon as Camilla did, the last of her burned skin replenished. He knew that, for Gloxinia, Camilla's blood made her one of his fey, his responsibility. Such injuries had surely insighted the King's wrath. Meliodas almost felt bad for whoever had damaged her.

"Looks like you guys had fun," he said lightly, stepping into view.

Drole looked down at the small man by his feet, nodding to him once.

"'Fun' may not be the correct word. But, we were successful...with minimal casualties," his single eye again drifted to Camilla, taking in her exposed back.

Meliodas nodded in understanding, watching as Gloxinia called Basquias back to himself. Then, he walked forward, looking over Camilla to check her one last time. Clutching the ruins of her shirt to her chest, she looked rough but unhurt.

"Yo, Camilla. You alright?"

She looked up at him, light eyes tired but still burning with the fire that had sparked after he found her. She nodded once.

"I'm fine, Meliodas," she smiled wryly, "And, with Gloxinia's help, I didn't even have to worry Elizabeth."

He grinned, giggling that odd little giggle, and nodded.

"Yup. Though," he pointed, still smiling, "You might want to get ahold of a new shirt. Your boobs are almost showing."

Immediately, the mood of camaraderie was killed by his manner-of-fact statement. Gloxinia made an exasperated sound. Camilla stood shakily, expression scandalized, and took a single step before collapsing on shaky legs. Drole swooped down to catch her, seeming to have anticipated this, so that she fell into one huge blue hand. Meliodas looked up, surprised, as the warrior carefully lifted her, cradling her close to his chest.

"I'll carry her, before she hurts herself."

Camilla shot Drole a reproachful glance that quickly turned into gratitude. Sighing, she settled in for their trip home.

"Well, let's head back and report," Meliodas said cheerfully, "And maybe grab some drinks after."

Together the four left the battle scene, not one of them choosing to look back. There was too bright a future to be reminded of the darkness of even the recent past.

* * *

 **The second of our snippets into Camilla's life. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, especially Gloxinia and Drole, who became two of my favorite characters as soon as they showed up. Also very much looking forward to Meliodas' role in this story.**

 **I would strongly recommend going and checking out my cowriter's Seven Deadly Sins fic, _Stone Cold_. This is one of the few times we've done separate fandom works and not combined characters, but, we're likely to drop a few crossover cameos, so keep an eye out for them (Camilla's already made hers in the most recent chapter of _Stone Cold_ ).**

 **Next up: A bit of angst, a bit of romance, and a bit of Gloxinia not really getting what it means to be a 'wingman'.**


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